


The Sensible Thing to Do

by Mireille



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 09:59:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13385445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: Tony was making an effort, in one small area of his life, to behave like a responsible superhero, and not having sex with evenreformedvillains was the area he had chosen. Even if it meant he had to attempt to date everyone else he knew. (Except Natasha, because he did not want to die.)





	The Sensible Thing to Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soft_princess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soft_princess/gifts).



> This fic blithely disregards vast swathes of canon and exists in a universe where quick and easy solutions were found to complex problems. It exists in my favorite type of alternate universe, the kind where Loki was persuaded to join the Avengers and everyone lives mostly-happily in the tower together and I can ignore all the stuff in later films that made my heart hurt. (Like, er, _all the stuff in later films._ )
> 
> Which is a perfect setting for something this cheerfully silly. :) 
> 
> So, yeah, if something doesn't line up well with canon, it's almost definitely because it's just Not That Kind of Fic, not that I didn't know any better. :) 
> 
> And now that I've put 99% of you off the fic with this author's note....

If the cut on Tony's face would have just stopped bleeding on its own, he could have avoided the whole thing. 

But it didn't, and so after they wiped out the last of the Doombots--he couldn't even figure out why they were _here_ , except just to piss the Avengers off, but what could you expect from a villain who insisted on referring to himself in the third person?--he had to wait around to get stitched up. It was at times like these when he really hated not having superhuman healing powers, especially since waiting around meant that when Natasha was finished having her shoulder looked at, she had no problem tracking him down. 

“What the _hell_ did you think you were doing?” she snarled at him. She was no less scary with her arm in a sling, but then again, Tony had a tendency to find scary people hot, so that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Not that finding the Black Widow hot was a good idea, but (a) he was pretty much the king of bad ideas and (b) he liked her too much to piss her off by seriously hitting on her. 

He nodded toward the sling. “How bad is it?” 

“A nasty bruise and some strained muscles, that's all. No thanks to you.” 

Given that Tony hadn't been the one behind the army of magically-enhanced robots in Park Slope, he wasn't sure that was entirely fair. “What the hell did I do?” 

“You were supposed to be watching my back.” 

“I was!” Well, obviously, except for that one split second when one of the Doombots got too close to them--see also, the cuts on his face. 

“Except for when you were distracted by Loki.” Which was basically the same thing. But the fight had been going well, and neither he nor Loki could resist the urge to be smart-asses--especially since, as far as they could tell, it pissed Doctor Doom off when they didn't seem sufficiently impressed by his schemes. 

He sighed. “I wasn't _distracted by Loki,_ I was distracted by _what Loki was saying_ but yeah. You're right. I got distracted, we're lucky it wasn't worse, and I owe you big time.” Okay, that might seem like an arbitrary distinction to Natasha, but it was clear enough to him. Getting distracted by what Loki was saying could happen to anyone. Getting distracted by _Loki_ was the kind of thing that everyone expected of Tony (see also, the King of Bad Ideas) and was just going to lead to another really uncomfortable Avengers meeting about Epically Poor Decision-Making. 

It also happened to be an absolutely accurate description of what had just happened, but Tony was really trying to embrace denial as a valid lifestyle choice, at least where Loki was concerned, in the interest of team harmony and not getting turned into a frog when he pissed Loki off. (It was inevitable; he was pretty sure he was incredibly lucky that Pepper hadn't had frog transformation powers.) 

“You really do,” she agreed. “On the other hand, it could have been a lot worse, so I'm feeling generous. There's just one thing I want from you.” 

“Barton cannot have a dog in the tower,” he said. “I don't care how much he wants one. If he really wants a pet, I'll buy him a hamster. I'll even throw in one of those fancy Habitrails for it.” 

She shook her head. “I want you to get your head out of your ass,” she said flatly. “If you want Loki, do something about it. Nobody's going to care. He's been on our side for almost a year now. He's either playing a very long game, or we can trust him. Either way, you fucking him isn't going to change that.” 

“I'm not going to fuck him,” Tony said. Of course he wasn't. Banter was one thing. Flirting, too--Tony flirted with most people. He flirted with Doombots, for fuck's sake. It was his thing. Genius and flirting. But he was making an effort, in one small area of his life, to behave like a responsible superhero, and since he wasn't giving up drinking as long as he had a working liver, not having sex with even _reformed_ villains was the area he had chosen. 

Possibly also because in addition to the potential to wake up green and amphibious, there was also the chance that if he had sex with Thor's little brother, and things went wrong, Tony was afraid that his skull might become very well acquainted with Mjolnir. Thor wasn't going to like anything that might make Loki decide not to stick around the tower any longer. 

“Prove you're not interested, then,” she said. “Find someone else.” 

“What the hell?” Tony said. “No, not you,” he added to the nurse who had finally arrived to clean up his face before he got stitched up. “You're fine, you're an angel of mercy, she's insane.” Then, to Natasha again, “I thought there was a _team meeting_ voting against me finding someone else?”

“No, there was a team meeting where we voted against you bringing Avengers groupies home with you. Especially since they were making Bruce very nervous.”

To be honest, the woman who'd apparently only been willing to settle for Iron Man because she thought he could get her close to Hulk had made Tony pretty fucking nervous, too. “So what am I supposed to do?” 

He _really_ did not like that smile.

****

“So. Alone at last,” Tony said, leering at Steve just to see him do his impression of a deer caught in headlights.

Steve looked at the floor, the ceiling, the lamps--basically, anywhere but at Tony--and frowned at the sight of the small table set for two. “I thought we were going out.”

“Sure, we can do that,” Tony agreed. “Iron Man can take Captain America out to one of the best restaurants in Manhattan for a romantic dinner, and the press can completely lose their shit. I figured there was time enough for that if we decide this is going somewhere.” Part of him knew it was--well, not evil as such, but definitely dickish to enjoy making Steve look that uncomfortable. 

The rest of him told that part to shut up and enjoy it. Steve had been the _worst_ at that little “please stop thinking with your dick” meeting. It had obviously been out of the best and most sincerely concerned motives, but Steve had earned a little embarrassment. 

Not to mention that Tony and Natasha had agreed that while this was pointless from Tony's perspective, it might put an end to the ongoing farce that was Steve Rogers trying to be sneaky. Nobody, but _nobody_ , bought the “Bucky Barnes and I are just good heterosexual friends” story, and while it had been funny at first, now it was just getting ridiculous. 

“Besides,” Tony went on, “I can't say I'd mind a little private time with you. That suit looks good on you, by the way.” It didn't, except in the sense that Steve couldn't look like shit if he tried. No matter how this went, Tony was going to insist that Steve get a couple of decent suits. Eventually, he was going to need to make a public appearance in something other than his Captain America getup, and left to his own devices, he was embarrassing. Steve tried blaming it on a seventy-year gap in fashion knowledge, but Tony knew how to use Google, and he had proof that it wasn't the forties; it was just Steve. 

“I look like an idiot,” Steve muttered, tugging at his sleeve. 

“Well, that's what off-the-rack will do for you, but I was trying to be nice. It's this thing people sometimes do when they're having dinner with an attractive member of the appropriate sex.” He went over to the bar and poured a glass of wine, holding it out to Steve. “Now, I know you can't get drunk on this, but I'm not letting you drink milk with dinner. This is a grown-up occasion, and we're having grown-up beverages.” 

Steve took the wineglass without argument, and Tony poured himself some Scotch. “Now, ordinarily I'd suggest we have a drink and get to know each other a little better before dinner, but since we live in the same building and fight bad guys together, we can probably skip that part.” 

Steve grabbed that like a lifeline. “I don't know why Natasha thinks this is a such good idea for us,” he said. “You're right--we already know one another. What's the point of our having dinner together? We have dinner together at least a few nights a week anyway.” 

“Trying to grab some pizza before Thor inhales it all isn't exactly a romantic evening,” Tony said. “Besides, I'm sure there are a lot of things we don't know about each other... yet.” He looked Steve up and down, slowly. It wasn't exactly a painful experience; even the terrible suit couldn't hide the basic lines of lean, hard muscle, and Tony had seen him in form-fitting gear often enough that he could fill in any gaps with his imagination. It was kind of a pity that this wasn't going to go anywhere, honestly; Steve's ass was a revelation. (Only _kind of_ a pity, because Tony was pretty sure Steve Rogers didn't do casual sex, and there was no way Tony would do anything else with the World's Oldest Boy Scout. But it _was_ a great ass.) 

Finishing his lascivious examination of Steve's body, he drew his eyes upward again to meet Steve's gaze, holding eye contact long enough that Steve's cheeks turned faintly pink. “And those are the kind of things that are better saved until after dinner. For what I have in mind, you'll need to keep your strength up.”

Had he said “faintly pink”? Make that “bright red.” “Um,” Steve said. Apparently, that had conveyed his feelings so perfectly that it was worth saying again. “Um, Tony?” 

“Yes, Steve?” Tony took a step closer. Steve was about to break, Tony could tell. Just a tiny bit more pressure, and they could all go back to rolling their eyes at Clint's jokes and not at Steve's attempts at stealth. 

“This was a terrible idea. I really can't do this. It's nothing against you, I just can't. Don't ask me to explain why not, please.” 

“You mean it's not because you're going steady with Comrade Murderbot downstairs?” 

Steve scowled. “He was brainwashed, and he's not a _murderbot_.” Both of which Tony knew, but hell, Barnes didn't seem to object; it was Steve who got his star-spangled panties in a wad about it. That was why Tony did it; kicking Barnes when he was still pretty far down wouldn't have been fun, but annoying Steve was one of Tony's major sources of non-lab-related entertainment these days. Especially once he'd started spending less time with Loki after realizing he genuinely _liked_ the guy more than half the time. 

“I notice you didn't say you aren't going steady with him,” Tony said. 

“I thought people didn't do that any more.” 

“We don't, Grandpa, but you're avoiding the question.” 

“How did you know?” The flush was still there, but there was a goofy-ass half-smile as well. It was damn near cute. 

“I didn't know. I suspected, because there is a reason we don't use you for covert missions, but I didn't know for sure until you told me. You walked right into that one.” Tony backed away from Steve, much to the other man's obvious relief, and dropped into a chair. Sipping his drink, he waved at the couch with his other hand, and Steve sat down like he was afraid he'd fall down if he didn't. “Speaking of which, why the hell didn't you tell anyone? This isn't summer camp; you're not going to get in trouble for not being in your own bed after lights out.”

Steve set his wineglass down on the side table. “I don't know. It never really seemed the right time. And, well, he was working for Hydra until recently, even if he was brainwashed and nothing he did was actually his fault, and neither of us is used to being able to tell people, either. So it just seemed easier to not say anything and just pretend no one had a clue.” 

Tony grinned. “Well, we did. Most of us did, anyway. I'm not sure Thor noticed. He just talks about how good it is that you're reunited with your shield-brother, which apparently is _totally_ not an Asgardian euphemism, no matter how it sounds.” He frowned slightly. “I'm not sure Asgardians know what euphemisms _are_. Except for Loki, and he probably invented them in the first place, the better to mock the shit out of Thor.” 

Steve ignored that digression. “If you knew, why did you ask me on this date?” 

“To get you to admit it so we could all stop pretending you were spending all night in his room playing Scrabble. Why did you agree?”

“I couldn't see a way out of it without telling Natasha about Bucky.” Steve sighed. “Anyway, I'm sorry if you're disappointed, but I should probably--”

“Nah,” Tony said. “It's fine. Except that I promised Natasha I'd take you to dinner, and I think she's looking for an excuse to kill me in my sleep, so we're going to eat dinner. A nice, normal, non-groping dinner.” He couldn't resist a leer again. “Unless you and Barnes have an open relationship, because I would totally be up for--”

“Let it go, Tony.” 

“Well, just so you know the offer's open. Also, don't forget, a threesome makes a thoughtful birthday gift.”

****

“So, it looks like last night went well,” Natasha said, peeling an orange neatly and looking far too awake for--what the hell time was it? Why was he even awake?

Oh, yeah. Because he'd decided he didn't feel like talking to Natasha last night after Steve went home to his boyfriend, and he'd known that she'd pounce on him the instant he set foot out of the penthouse, so he'd gone to bed before midnight. The last time he'd done that, he'd lost at least a pint of blood earlier in the day. Well, the last time he'd gone to bed to sleep, at least. 

Tony poured himself some coffee, drank half of it, and refilled his cup before answering. “How did that go well? It was a complete failure, just like I told you it would be.” 

She finished peeling the orange and looked up with a grin. “You missed the lovebirds. They were in here when I came in. Then Steve went off to the gym.”

“That sounds extremely normal and boring,” Tony said. “I mean, Steve hitting the gym first thing in the morning? That's like saying 'the sun came up today.' Or it will, anyway, once it's not so damn early.” There was no breakfast, unless he stole Natasha's toast. He'd tried the argument that since his money bought the groceries in the main kitchen, it was his toast--once. It was too early in the morning to let Natasha hurt him like that again. 

This was why he didn't get up early. If he came down at his usual time, someone had generally already made food and he could grab some. 

“He doesn't usually give Barnes a long, lingering kiss goodbye,” she said, smirking. “Not where anyone can see them, anyway.”

“Ugh,” Tony said. “At least you and Clint aren't sappy at each other in public.”

“Jealous, Stark?” She grinned. “Don't worry, there are still _so many_ other options. We'll skip Bucky; I think it's pretty obvious he'd turn you down flat. And if he didn't, Steve would probably kill you.” 

“We could skip everyone. Not all of us want to be part of a happy couple.” 

“No, but all of _us_ want you to stop bringing groupies home--”

“I haven't done that in months!” 

“And we want you to stop pining over--”

“I. Do. Not. Pine.”

“And anyway, you owe me. I told you what I wanted. Are you going to back out?” 

Tony winced. He could hear the words “world of hurt” lurking in the subtext. “Of course not.” 

“You could always cut the whole thing short,” she pointed out. “We both know there's only one person in this tower you really want to see naked--”

“--Other than you--”

“One person who is unlikely to kill you if you try. So if you'll admit that and stop avoiding Loki, I'll happily drop the rest.” 

No. No way. He wasn't avoiding Loki, first of all. He'd just been making an effort to not be in the same place at the same time. Pedants might argue that was the same thing, but they were missing a lot of nuance. Besides, _not_ trying to get into the pants of the God of Mischief and Lies, even if said god was no longer actively evil, was behaving like a sensible person. It was miserable and boring and incredibly difficult given that Loki had developed a habit of touching Tony (in theoretically innocent ways, but still), but it was sensible. 

Tony hated being sensible, especially when it meant he wasn't getting laid, but he did like being right. “Who's next?” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Bruce, I think.” 

Well, that wouldn't be too terrible. He spent a lot of time with Bruce, so it wouldn't even be weird. “No problem,” he said cheerfully. “I can't think why I haven't done that before now anyway.”

“I can,” Natasha said. “But you probably can't, given how much denial you're in.”

****

The date with Steve had been so much easier. Tony didn't worry about annoying Steve. Tony derived intense joy from annoying Steve, in fact. But Bruce was a different matter.

Completely aside from the Hulk issue, annoying Bruce on any but the most superficial level felt mean, not fun. Tony had no problem being mean if he thought it was necessary, but it wasn't like he had so many friends that he could go around intentionally being shitty to them for no good reason. 

And, okay, maybe there was an extra layer of awkwardness because Tony wouldn't have minded if this turned out to be a real date, not just a sign that Natasha had a fucked-up sense of humor, and he'd had a feeling a few times in the past that Bruce might have considered the same thing. But Tony also had a feeling that if he and Bruce had ever been going to get together, they would have already had filthy sex against the wall in the workshop--Tony paused to revel in those images, because he wasn't _that_ into self-denial--so that ship had definitely sailed. 

It all added up to “awkward.” Bruce awkwardly showed up at Tony's door, they had awkwardly talked shop while they waited for dinner to arrive, and now they were awkwardly eating their meals. Tony hadn't had a date this awkward since he was sixteen. 

He gained a new appreciation for awkward silence, though, when Bruce set his fork down, looked over at Tony for a few seconds, and then said, “Mind telling me what this is really about?” 

_I have no fucking clue_ , Tony wanted to say, but, well, he did Natasha was trying to make some kind of point to him, or just drive him insane, or something. That was what this was really about. 

It wasn't about the fact that Tony had spent a lot of the evening so far thinking about how much less awkward this would be with Loki. Quite apart from the fact that they'd probably have started arguing--recreational arguing, not anything serious--before the food had been delivered, by now Tony was pretty sure he'd have offered himself up to Loki for dessert. Nope, not about that _at all_. 

He decided to go with, “Natasha hates me,” which might not be strictly true (he was breathing, so she couldn't hate him too much) but got the point across. 

Bruce chuckled at that. “And I'm punishment?”

“No!” Tony said quickly. Then, because he couldn't quite resist, he added, “I mean, if you _wanted_ to be punishment, we could probably work something out. No? Okay, then, fair enough.” 

“Tony,” Bruce said quietly. “You don't have to joke about it. This isn't the kind of thing that's going to make me angry, even if I don't feel the same way.”

Tony's voice sounded brittle even to himself. “You know, it never occurred to me that having dinner with me _would_ make you angry. I've been told I'm quite a catch.” He hadn't expected Bruce to be interested--hell, that was one reason why he agreed to these dates, because none of them were going to lead to anything messy--and Tony wouldn't have really wanted him to be, anyway. But he _hated_ being let down gently. 

“Oh, damn.” Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. “Can I just break out the cliches and tell you that it isn't you, it's me? And it's not even me, entirely. It's--well, it's partly the Other Guy.” 

Tony drained the last of his Scotch. He was entirely too sober to be told that the fucking _Hulk_ didn't think he was good enough for Bruce--what a kick to the ego that was. On the other hand, Bruce was starting to look a little stressed out, and Tony could defuse a situation if he really saw the need. “I'm listening,” he said. 

“I'm not saying it's my only reason, but seriously, I'm not even going to consider getting involved with anyone who isn't physically capable of handling an encounter with the Other Guy--without any armor, without weapons. No matter how careful I am, I just can't take that kind of chance with someone's safety, especially not someone I care about.”

Oh, damn. That kind of made sense, given how little Bruce trusted his ability to stay in control. “I hate to say it,” Tony said, “but that narrows the field kind of a lot.” 

“You know it,” Bruce said. He looked down at his dinner, starting to cut it into small pieces. 

“I mean, it _really_ narrows the field. Steve, maybe, but I figure any day he's going to ask me to design an engagement-ring attachment for that cyborg arm of Barnes'. And beyond that, you're down to our friendly and not-so-friendly neighborhood deities, and _why is your face red_?” He ran his own words back through his mind and grinned. “Oh, Brucie.” 

If Bruce cut the bean on his plate into any smaller pieces, they'd need an electron microscope to see them. “Never mind, Tony.” 

“Why, Dr. Banner, I do believe you want the God of Thunder to pound you with his mighty hammer.” 

Bruce laughed so hard Tony was afraid for a minute that he was going to choke. “You are such a dick, Stark.” 

“A dick, but not wrong.” Bruce and Thor. He could actually kind of see it. Thor did appreciate intelligence--Thor wasn't stupid himself, even if he gave that impression a lot of the time, and he'd been very impressed with Jane Foster's intellect. Hell, he still was, even though it had been months since they split up. When they weren't arguing, he seemed to be proud of his brother's brilliance as well. So he'd appreciate Bruce's brain. And that weird Shakespearean courtly shit that seemed to be a good chunk of Asgardian culture--the chunk that wasn't hitting things very hard with hammers or hacking at them with swords--would probably be good for Bruce. Somebody ought to treat him well. Tony probably wouldn't have, to be honest, even if he would have tried. 

Bruce nodded. “Seriously, it's nothing. It's not going to happen--I'm pretty sure the crown prince of Asgard isn't going to risk getting involved with _another_ mortal, and a male one at that--and I'll get over it, so just--don't do anything stupid, please.”

“I'm a certified genius,” Tony pointed out. “If I do it, it's brilliant by definition.” 

Bruce groaned. “I am so doomed.” 

“I'll give you a choice: let me help you out, or I'll make jokes about Thor's hammer until--well, until I get distracted and forget about it. Which might be tomorrow, but it might be next year. Ask Rhodey; I can be very persistent.” 

“Doomed,” Bruce repeated.

****

“I'm starting to get the feeling that you're not taking this seriously,” Natasha said, dropping gracefully onto the couch next to Tony. Pepper had conspired with JARVIS to lock him out of his lab until he'd had at least five hours of sleep, which was cruel and unusual punishment and he was going to have to restrict her access one of these days. Right now, though, he was just going to out-wait them. Chances were good that before he caved in and slept, there'd be a crisis requiring him to do something brilliant, and JARVIS would let him back in. That would show them.

“What gave you that idea? I mean, aside from the fact that I am totally not taking this seriously because it's incredibly stupid? I've been on two dates. They've both been otherwise interested--which, by the way, is ridiculous. Are we a team of superheroes, or a bunch of high school kids trying to find dates for the big dance?”

“I think of you more as kindergartners, myself. Lots of running around and screaming and pouting when you can't have your way.” She shrugged. 

Tony was going to argue that when he realized that she had a point, some days. “Anyway. What do you expect me to do? I don't even understand what the point of the exercise is,” he lied, “but whatever it is, we both knew Rogers was taken, and Bruce--was that a surprise to you, or just to me?”

“Nothing is a surprise to me,” Natasha said, which was possibly true but also possibly bullshit. It really got on his nerves that he couldn't tell the difference with her. He usually had a pretty good bullshit detector, but her skills were almost supernatural. “Except why you're insisting on going through with this, when you know how it's going to end up.” 

“Because I have a cunning plan.” 

She frowned. “Let me guess. You're going to go on a date with everyone in this tower--except me, because not even in your dreams, Stark--in the hopes that being the last in line will piss Loki off so much he'll say no, and you can go back to pining and flirting and pretending that you don't get turned on every time he annoys the shit out of Thor or Steve.” 

“That was definitely not my cunning plan.” That had definitely been his cunning plan, except for the pining part. He was Tony fucking Stark. He didn't pine.

“Good luck with that,” she said. “I mean, it's not going to work, but you can try.” 

“I have a noble motive,” he said. “At least, for the next date. If Point Break is willing to go on a date with a mortal guy, then that means Bruce has a chance, and I can twist the conversation around to the fact that he's not my type, but I know a guy who really digs the immortal-surfer-dude vibe.” 

Natasha snorted. “Yeah, you're practically a saint. Or you're hoping that if Thor has his very own mortal boyfriend, he'll be too distracted to worry that Tony Stark, International Playboy, has set his sights on Thor's little brother.” 

Tony's sudden decision to go ahead and try to get that sleep Pepper had been insisting on had _nothing_ to do with how much of a good idea that was. Nothing at all.

****

“I'm kind of surprised you agreed to this,” Tony said. He'd ordered food again--Thor was way too attention-getting to take out in public, especially under circumstances like this. Impossible to have a conversation when teenage girls were squealing and swooning all around them. Besides, if their conversation went well, he was planning to do Thor an enormous favor, and it'd be easier to cut this “date” short if they were already in the tower.

“Why, friend Stark?” Thor asked in between bites. “I admit that I have never previously considered you in such a light, but if I am not mistaken, 'first dates' on Midgard are for the purpose of determining if two people are compatible.” 

Like it took a date to determine that he and Thor were not compatible. Oh, the thunder god was attractive enough, if you liked them big and blond, and Tony liked him just fine as a friend and a fellow Avenger. Tony just couldn't imagine dating him. (Tony could imagine _fucking_ him, true, but there were very few people Tony couldn't imagine fucking, sometimes to his everlasting regret.) Tony was on this date because Natasha wanted him to admit she was right. Even if he was thinking it, he wasn't going to admit it. 

“That's not what I meant,” he said. “I just--I don't know how much Asgardian culture lines up with old Norse culture, and I don't know how much of the stuff about that on Wikipedia is accurate, but isn't this kind of thing considered--what's the word? Argh, erg...” He couldn't remember the word, but he could remember damn clearly that it applied to more things than just gay sex. Like men who used magic. That one had stuck with him, for an extremely obvious reason that he didn't feel like admitting to when the reason's oddly protective big brother was sitting two feet away. But it was another reason to think twice about acting on his attracting to Loki. Loki might be inclined to think that Tony was just giving him shit--especially since Tony frequently did just that--not genuinely interested in him, and “not a supervillain any more” was not the same as “not willing to throw Tony out the window again.” 

“ _Argr_ ,” Thor supplied. “And yes, it is. Specifically, the receptive partner is considered _argr_ \--I believe the best word in your language is 'unmanly,' and such men are not respected in Asgard.” Then he shrugged. “And so, often, when two men--often young men who have not yet taken a wife--wish to engage in intimate activity, they do not choose to engage in penetration, and thus neither of them is _argr_.” 

That...made a stupid kind of sense. Like idiot teenagers on Earth having anal sex so they could claim to be virgins. Christ, people were fucked up about sex _everywhere_ , weren't they? “So that's why you don't care? Because you'd avoid being 'unmanly' on a technicality?” Oh, Tony halfway wished this was going somewhere, because Thor might be really surprised at who wound up on top. 

“No,” Thor said. “That technicality, as you call it, only made it clear to me that it was not something to care about, not if it was something that could be avoided by such a trick.” He smiled, slightly. “Especially if one to whom trickery is second nature never seemed inclined to try to avoid the reputation anyway.” 

He was having a conversation with the Norse god of thunder about said god's internal debates about homophobia--and the fact that said god's brother apparently gave no shits about being called the Old Norse equivalent of a homophobic slur. How, exactly, was this Tony's life? And how could he make sure it never, ever changed? Normal--even what had passed for normal in his life--would be so boring after this never-ending cavalcade of strangeness. 

“And then I came to Midgard,” Thor said, “and _anyone_ here I choose to be with would be inappropriate, by Asgard's standards.” 

“So, are you okay with that? I know you were where Jane was concerned, but in general? Because I was wondering--”

“My friend,” Thor interrupted, “I'm sorry. You are a valued friend and a brave hero, but I must be honest with you. I know that the point of this evening was to find out if we wished to pursue a deeper relationship, but I already know the answer.” 

Tony pressed a hand against his chest, gasping theatrically. “Is there _someone else_ , Thor?” 

Thor actually looked sheepish. “The lady Natasha urged me to accept your invitation regardless, but I would not like to cause you pain by giving you false hope.” 

Right, Tony couldn't keep up the outrage, no matter how obviously fake it was. Thor felt _guilty for leading him on_ , what the _fuck_? “It's fine, you're not my type anyway. We're good.” Then he paused. “That someone else wouldn't happen to be Bruce, would it?” It had damn well better be Bruce. If it wasn't Bruce, he'd lock the two of them into a room together until it _was_ Bruce. Bruce deserved better than to pine after some blockheaded thunder god. 

“Do not be concerned for your friend, Stark,” Thor said quickly. “I understand why he chooses to keep to himself, and I would not cause him distress. I simply wanted you to know why your feelings are not returned.” 

“I don't have feelings for you, dumbass. If Natasha said I do, she's just being evil. But here's the good news: you may not be my type, but you're apparently Bruce's. So if you want me to forgive you for toying with my affections, you'll say goodnight and go pay him a visit.” And Bruce had said he was doomed. Ha. That would teach him to underestimate Tony. 

But damn it, Thor wasn't supposed to be the god of smiles and sunshine. Nobody should be able to look as radiantly, beamingly happy as Thor did at that news. It was kind of disturbing, actually. If it wasn't that it would make Natasha right, Tony might have to admit that he might possibly be jealous--not of Thor or of Bruce, but just because he was shaping up to be the one solo Avenger. (Loki didn't count, mostly because Loki was adamant that he was _not_ an Avenger. He just lived in the tower with them and fought on their side and spent time with them even when it wasn't strictly necessary. But nope, totally not an Avenger.) 

“I must go,” Thor said immediately, still grinning, and yeah, Tony was glad he'd soundproofed all the living quarters when he'd opened up the tower. Something told him Thor wasn't going to be quiet. “But first, may I offer some advice?” 

“Why not?” Tony sighed. “Everyone else wants to.” Well, maybe just Natasha, but she was harder to ignore than most people.

“I believe the lady Natasha would stop attempting to 'help' you if you would simply accept the offer that obviously intrigues you.” 

“I'm not supposed to bring home groupies,” Tony answered mechanically. “There was a vote, remember?”

“That isn't what I meant. Do you truly not see my point?” 

“Nobody's offered anything,” he said, which was not technically a lie. Not with _words_ , at least. With “accidental touches” and wicked smiles and a lot of highly charged eye contact, but not in so many words. 

“You are,” Thor continued implacably, “a man who enjoys challenge, conflict, variety. Constant intellectual stimulation. Argument for its own sake. Can you not think of anyone who would suit you well?” 

At least he didn't come right out and say, “besides, you keep checking out my brother's ass in those leather pants he wears,” but somehow, Tony was becoming sure he'd noticed. Everyone had probably noticed. He wasn't great at subtle. 

“I had someone who suited me just fine,” Tony said, even though he knew it wasn't true, not really, “but she left me. I'm good on my own now, thanks. I'm just humoring Natasha.” 

He thought that, when Thor left, he was muttering “just as stubborn as each other,” but that would just be stupid.

****

Well, Movie Night had just gotten a lot more depressing.

Some things hadn't changed: Natasha and Clint still didn't sit together; Clint preferred to be out of elbow-jabbing range when he made smart-ass comments about the movie, or remarked on one of the actresses' appearances. Tony still commandeered one of the two chairs so that it was harder for anyone to steal his popcorn. 

But he was used to Bruce taking the other chair, and instead, he was at the end of one of the couches, the one with Clint at the other end. And in the middle, like a buffer zone between Bruce's quietness and Clint's almost manic energy, was Thor. 

Well, not quite in the middle. Much closer to Bruce's end, though the thunder god was big enough that he did take up a lot of the oversized couch. They weren't touching, but it was obvious even to Tony that Thor was just letting Bruce decide whether he was okay with the physical contact. 

It had been like that _all week_. And then there was the other couch, where Steve and Barnes--well, mostly Steve, but it's not like he was getting any objection--were clearly taking full advantage of, “here we are in the 21st century, where we are allowed to touch one another in sort-of-public places, truly the future is a glorious place.” And it wasn't even obscene touching, which at least could have been fun to watch. No, it was old-married-couple cuddling. There was hair-petting, for fuck's sake. 

Tony was starting to think that he preferred Barnes as a brainwashed cyborg assassin. 

And then there was the worst part. The part where the God of Annoying had put in one of his rare appearances at movie night--he usually claimed he couldn't stand Thor's company for that long--and had taken over the empty chair next to Tony. Not just sat down in it-- _taken it over_ , draping his long legs over one arm--the side closest to Tony's chair, of course, so that bare feet occasionally nudged against the arm of his chair. His own arm, too, once, until he moved over, scowling fiercely. “Nobody in this tower has any concept of personal space,” he muttered. 

Nobody seemed to care about his opinion, so Tony gave up and went back to watching the movie. But when he noticed that Bruce had moved fractionally closer to Thor so that he could lean against Thor's shoulder, he also noticed that he wasn't the only one rolling his eyes. 

That didn't mean he and Loki were having a moment. He and Loki didn't have moments. They didn't have anything, and it was not okay that Loki had, in fact, stolen his bowl of popcorn--using magic, which was cheating as well as theft. 

It did mean he was in a fractionally better mood for the rest of the night, though.

****

“Hey, Barnes, what do you think about--”

“ _No_ ,” Barnes said, as the elevator door slid closed between them. 

If only everyone made Tony's life that easy.

****

“Just so you know,” said Clint as soon as Tony sat down, “I don't put out.” He'd also insisted on going out, giving Tony directions to a Thai place he insisted was the best in New York. Tony had tried the same “keeping a low profile” argument he'd used with Steve, but Clint had insisted that he didn't really give a shit what the press thought anyway, and was surprised that Tony did. And, well, Tony didn't, and he also didn't mind getting out of the tower from time to time. He just hadn't wanted to go all the way to Brooklyn, but at least here he wasn't likely to run into any pathologically annoying exiled gods. Or any disgustingly happy couples, either. The atmosphere in the tower was about eighty-four percent smug sexual satisfaction these days, and Tony was choking on it.

Speaking of which--”The soundproofing I had to install after you and Natasha moved in says otherwise, Barton.” 

Yeah, great, he'd brought the smug satisfaction along with him. Still, he was used to it from Clint. 

“I don't put out for guys,” Clint clarified. “Believe it or not, and I could see why it seems improbable given everyone we live with, I'm straight.” 

Tony was pretty sure that for a few seconds, he looked like a confused Labrador, head-tilt and all. “Really? Are you sure?” He'd never seen Clint show any interest in a man, true, but he basically went out to fight villains in a muscle shirt. That couldn't be the action of a straight man, could it? 

“Oh, god, Nat told you about that time in the Czech Republic, didn't she. That was mission-critical. Or it would have been if our intel hadn't been total shit and I had got the right target. And I didn't even swallow.” 

Sometimes, Tony thought that if he spent enough time with Clint, he'd start to understand that tired look Pepper got sometimes when he was talking to her. Good thing he never planned to spend that much time with Clint. 

The waiter came to take their order, sparing him any more revelations from Clint. Once they were alone at the table again, he decided he wanted some clarification, though, since he'd had to hear the outline of the story to begin with. “Are you saying you blew a guy for a mission, _and it was the wrong guy_?”

“Shit. I should have known Nat didn't tell you. Goddamn it, I told on myself.” 

“Does it really matter who told me? What matters is, I know. I will never be able to not know, and that is equal parts hilarious and horrifying.” 

“Yeah, whatever. Just don't go telling L--everybody.” 

Now that Clint mentioned it, Loki would probably feel the same way about this little story as Tony did himself. He was about the only person in the tower who would. Maybe Tony would have to see if Loki wanted a drink after he got back from dinner. If he had to carry the image of Clint Barton incompetently prostituting himself for the sake of a mission, he deserved to be able to share it with somebody, after all. “Would I do that?”

“Yes, you asshole.” 

“Fair,” Tony admitted. “It's taking all my restraint to not text him now.” 

Clint smirked, but didn't say anything, which was even more annoying than whatever he might have said about Tony, Loki, and restraint--and fuck, Tony was making the comments _for_ him. It was all Natasha's fault. If she hadn't started forcing him to date his way through the Avengers, Tony wouldn't have needed to focus on the one person he hadn't had an awkward date with. And when Loki was your last bastion of sanity, you were deeply fucked. 

“Anyway,” he said, probably more forcefully than necessary, “Do I want to know how badly you pissed your girlfriend off for her to make you go on a date with me?” 

Clint shrugged. “She doesn't like Thai. She figured if she sent you with me, that'd get her off the hook for a few weeks, at least.” He grinned at Tony. “Besides, I wanted to get away from everyone making goo-goo eyes at one another.” 

Now, that was a sentiment Tony could get behind. “Sounds like a plan. But Barton? Try not to accidentally blow anybody tonight, okay?”

****

“Don't tell anyone about Prague,” Natasha said as the elevator doors closed.

“I plan to tell _everyone_ about Prague,” Tony argued. “I'm considering calling Doctor Doom and telling _him_ about Prague. A story like that does not drop into my lap every day, and I intend to take full advantage of it.” 

“If you tell everyone about Prague,” Natasha countered, very calmly, “then I can't hold it over Clint's head any more.” 

Tony frowned. “I'm really not sure why you feel qualified to give me your opinion of my love life, given that your own relationship is a masterpiece of fucked-up-ness.” 

“It works for us.” 

He couldn't actually argue that; it certainly seemed to. The elevator doors opened then, and he wasn't surprised that she followed him out. He was surprised when his phone buzzed; he took it out of his pocket and glanced at the text message from Clint: _Fuck you SIDEWAYS, Stark, I told you not to tell him._

Tony quickly sent a reply-- _I told him to ask you about the Czech Republic, not my fault if you gave it away :)_ \-- and then handed the phone over to Natasha, who'd been holding out her hand expectantly. 

“Would you quit flirting with Loki and just get on with it?” 

Tony briefly considered arguing that the “him” in question was someone else, but that was entirely too transparent of a lie. “We have the Norse god of mischief living in our building, and you don't think I'm going to share information like this?” 

“I've resisted the urge. Everyone resists the urge. Everyone except you.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You have two weeks, Stark. Get this out of your system, or in two weeks, you're going on your next date.” 

“You're assuming he'll say yes.” 

She just raised an eyebrow and stared at him until Tony decided this was all too weird for him and made a break for the lab. He was halfway there before he realized he hadn't gotten his phone back from her. 

Fuck it, he decided. He could do without it until dinner.

****

At the time, it had seemed like a good idea to make sure that everyone living in Avengers Tower had a smartphone and knew how to use it, even the immortal space Vikings. At the time, a _lot_ of things seemed like a good idea, and one of these days, Tony was going to learn that he lived to regret at least half of them.

Like the flood of text messages that were arriving, even though Tony hadn't bothered to answer any of them. 

_If this is some absurd test of loyalty, Stark, I will remove your liver and feed it to you raw._

_Is it a Midgardian custom to arrange courtship via a proxy, or are you simply so much of a coward that you would send Natasha as your messenger?_

_You will not get away with ordering food and dining in your quarters. I have higher standards than Thor._

By which he assumed that since his two weeks were up, Natasha had found Loki and explained the dinner date. And... possibly that Loki had said yes? He was going to assume that Loki had said yes. And that meant that he had one more of these idiotic dates to live through, and then he'd have gone through everyone human or humanoid living in the Tower--except Natasha herself, who had made it clear that she wasn't an option--and then this entire farce would be over. 

Excellent. Tony's phone buzzed again, and he picked it up. 

_Stark: if you mean to go through with this, let us get it over with. Tonight._

He grinned and texted back, _Calm down, princess. I'll pick you up at eight. Wear something sexy._

Thirty seconds later, he realized that he did not necessarily want to see what Loki thought of as “something sexy,” given that he went into battle dressed like Rudolph the Red-Nosed fucking Reindeer, but eventually he decided, what the hell. If the press chose to focus on whatever passed for first-date wear in Asgard, they might not notice that Tony Stark was taking a reformed supervillain out for dinner. 

Which reminded him. “JARVIS, I need reservations tonight for eight-thirty. Um... Loki's been living here for a while now, so if you have some data on what kind of place he'd like...”

“Yes, sir. GPS information will be on your phone as soon as the reservations are confirmed.”

Great. So it looked like they were actually doing this. Well, why the hell not? He was Tony Stark. If he wanted to go out with a reformed-but-still-kind-of-an-asshole ex-supervillain, he could. The question was, _did_ he actually want to do this?

Of course he did. That hadn't ever really been in question, no matter how much Tony had argued the point. In every way Tony could think of, Loki was his type. This wasn't news. He just knew it was a terrible idea. But hey, if fate was going to drop Loki in his lap--possibly literally--he wasn't going to say no. 

_Especially_ not if it was literally.

****

“Do you own anything that isn't green and black?” Not that Tony was complaining, exactly. Loki was wearing a black suit with a green shirt so dark to only just miss being black itself. It was perfectly appropriate for the occasion--Loki absorbed information on Midgardian culture a lot faster than Thor did, so Tony hadn't had any real doubts in that regard--and definitely qualified as sexy. Or maybe that was just Tony's personal biases toward Tall, Dark, and Not All That Psycho These Days.

In answer, Loki made a quick gesture, and a white silk scarf appeared around his neck. It had green embroidery on it, but it wasn't black, anyway. “Are those snakes? For fuck's sake, I'm going to buy you clothes, and none of them are going to be green. And I'm going to make you wear them, too.” 

“Technically, I believe you purchased these,” Loki pointed out. Tony had hired a couple of personal shoppers and made the aliens and the formerly brainwashed cyborg assassin get something like a wardrobe. “Made” was probably too strong a word. He just figured they could use some clothes that wouldn't make them stand out any more than being a giant blond guy with a hammer, or a guy with a metal arm, or... or... _Loki_ would anyway, and it wasn't like Tony couldn't afford it. And if he was paying for it, he could tell the shoppers not to let them look too embarrassing. (Maybe, he thought, he should make the same offer to Steve before he wore that suit out in public.) 

“This time I'll know you can't be trusted.” There was a fraction of a second of terrible silence before Tony could get his mouth working again. “To pick out your own clothes,” he added quickly. There had been a _lot_ of arguments, back when Thor first showed up with his exiled brother, about whether or not Loki could be trusted. He was guessing that even though Loki hadn't been in the room at the time, they had been loud enough arguments that Loki had heard them. Not that they could have been much of a surprise, anyway--not trusting the God of Lies seemed like a sensible thing to do. 

Which is probably why Tony had found himself arguing in favor of “give the guy who threw me out a window a second chance.” Sensible was really fucking boring, most of the time, and one thing you could say about Loki was that he wasn't boring. Occasionally terrifying, but not boring.

The other thing you could say about him was that he was wearing a blue shirt now, and the snakes on his scarf were also blue. Huh. He'd magicked his clothes into a different color because Tony complained about them. That was... that was definitely a data point of some variety. 

“Cheater,” Tony said, then strode off toward the elevator without looking to see if Loki was following him.

****

Tony was starting to think that it was just possible that this was a date.

A real date. An actual date. Not an “eat really good Thai food with Barton and talk shit about everyone we know” date. Not a “have weird conversations about alien homophobia” date. Not even a “make as many hammer jokes as can be fit into one evening” date. 

An “oh, shit, I like spending time with him” date. 

Also an “I would not have a problem with this guy fucking me so hard I can't walk tomorrow” date, though that part wasn't actually surprising, since it had been crossing his mind with impressive regularity since he'd first encountered Loki--and it was a lot less disturbing now that Loki wasn't trying to kill or mind-whammy him and conquer the planet, so hooray for that, at least.

Not that Tony hadn't known he enjoyed Loki's company. Of course he did; he'd been comparing most of the dire excuses for dates he'd forced himself to go on lately to what they would have been like if Loki had been there. He'd just sort of figured that this would wind up being the same kind of farce all the rest of them had been, and it wasn't. 

The restaurant JARVIS had chosen was, for some reason, a decent-looking but not especially impressive or trendy Indian place. Tony didn't know what kind of food they had in Asgard, but he wouldn't have guessed mattar paneer. Then again, they didn't have Pop-Tarts, either, and Thor had certainly taken to those. 

“Have you ever been here?” Loki asked, as Tony opened the menu. 

He noticed Loki had left his lying on the table. “No, but I'm guessing you have?” 

“Not precisely. I've had food delivered from time to time. I wanted to try a wider variety of Midgardian food. It is... quite different to that of Asgard.” His smile looked strange, until Tony realized it was just because it was a normal, pleased smile without all that much crazy in it. “This is my favorite of the places I've sampled thus far. Thank you.” 

“Don't thank me,” Tony said, “Thank JARVIS. I told him to pick somewhere you'd like. I barely pay attention to what I eat, let alone anybody else.” 

Their server came up then, and they ordered; the waiter didn't seem to recognize either of them. He was pretty young, though, and Tony figured without the suit, he just looked like any other staggeringly handsome man who came into the restaurant on a Wednesday night. And, well, not a lot of people recognized Loki yet, not without the battle armor and the horned helmet and the megalomania. 

JARVIS had gotten them a table in a dimly-lit corner, affording them as much privacy as they were going to get out in public. Tony was suddenly very, very grateful to his AI. The restaurant made Loki happy, and being able to enjoy his evening without cameras going off in his face (and without worrying about how Loki would react to cameras going off in _his_ face) was going to make Tony happy. 

And he was enjoying the evening, at least so far. Even when Loki looked up at him and said, “I understand I have you to thank for how utterly irritating Thor has been lately.”

“Oh, right, like Thor hasn't been irritating you your entire life.” 

“I am referring to the atmosphere of cloying sentiment surrounding him for the past few weeks.” 

“How is that my fault? I'm not the one polishing his hammer at every opportunity.” He was starting to run out of hammer jokes, though. Maybe he should just insist that they watch _Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog_ at the next movie night. Wait, no, he wasn't making jokes in front of Bruce, so that wouldn't work. And chances were pretty good that from now on, if Bruce skipped movie night, so would Thor. Dammit. 

“Your incessant hammer jokes are not exactly making this situation any more tolerable.” Loki considered for a moment. “Other than the fact that Thor was so distracted by the situation that it took him three days to realize you weren't just taking a sudden interest in Mjolnir. I'll admit that his expression when he finally worked it out was worth having to tolerate all your barely-competent puns and innuendo.”

As their food arrived just then, Tony didn't have to come up with a response to that right away. He decided a slight subject change was in order. “I admit Thor is being really damn cheerful, but Bruce deserves some non-shitty parts of his life, so I can't hate it too much. Relentlessly mock it, but not hate it.” 

“I can,” Loki muttered. “Especially when he keeps trying to convince those around him that we should all wish to be in a similar state.” 

“Yeah, because being happy and sexually satisfied is such a horrible experience.” Not that Tony remembered either state all that clearly these days. Except that the food was good, and he liked spending time with Loki, and who knew? Maybe that last part would happen before the night was over. 

That earned him a raised eyebrow. “Haven't you been complaining for weeks about your ludicrous agreement with Romanov?”

“Well...yeah. But only because I didn't want to have to admit that she was right.” He paused. “And then also because I didn't want to have to admit that Thor was right.”

“Thor was right? About what, precisely?” Loki looked appalled at the very concept of someone confessing to _that_.

Tony grinned. “He spent about half of our 'date' explaining that he was interested in someone else and the other half subtly hinting that I was looking at the wrong prince of Asgard.”

“Former prince of Asgard,” Loki corrected, “and you can't expect me to believe that.” 

He hadn't expected Loki to scoff at the very idea. “Hey, you didn't have to come tonight. If you're not interested, Reindeer Games, all you had to do was to say 'no, thank you.'” Tony glared at him from across the table, then realized that Loki was frowning slightly. 

“Before you decided to jump to conclusions, Stark, I had been about to say that Thor is never subtle.”

Oh. That was better. “Subtle for Thor. For someone like you, it would have been the equivalent of taking out an electronic billboard on Times Square saying, 'DATE ME.'” 

Loki smiled. “Would that have worked?”

“Hell, yes, it would have worked. Have you looked in the mirror, like, ever? Not to mention that you're probably the only person in the tower who wouldn't get completely sick of my sense of humor in a month. Hell, you were interesting when you were a homicidal maniac. Now that you're at least theoretically on the same side I am--well, it would have worked a damn sight better than Natasha and Thor shoving me in your direction.” Tony realized that Loki wasn't smiling any more. He was just looking at Tony, and he couldn't tell whether it was a good look or a bad one. “I know you don't like listening to Thor, but seriously, is it _that_ crazy of an idea?” 

“Of course it is,” Loki said, still with that unreadable look on his face. “Can you imagine how much havoc the two of us could wreak without even trying?” 

He was not wrong. Tony had been telling himself that, after all. But maybe they could drive the rest of the world nuts, and not each other? He took a deep breath. “Awesome,” he said, reaching out a hand toward Loki. “Let's be crazy together.” 

Thank fuck, Loki laughed at that--throwing back his head to expose his long pale throat, and yes, thank fuck, Tony was going to have access to that neck, and the rest of Loki, before too much longer--and took Tony's hand.

****

Tony should have known that the evening was going too well. Dinner had been accompanied with increasingly outrageous flirting, including an extremely unfair, possibly even evil, demonstration of some of the more interesting applications of magic, like “feeling your date up while your hands are decorously visible above the edge of the table.” Tony had responded by “accidentally” getting some sauce on his fingers and slowly, deliberately (and without breaking eye contact) licking them clean. Possibly weak in comparison to a magical hand job, but hey, you play to your strengths.

Neither of them had felt like lingering once they'd finished eating. Once outside, Tony had paused, taking a few deep lungfuls of cool night air to clear his head, and that was when it happened. 

“Iron Man!” 

Tony tensed, turning toward the source of the voice. From the corner of his eye, he could see a flicker of green: Loki's magic at the ready. Shit, _not_ a fight, please, not when he'd been looking forward to getting home...

“Or, I mean, I guess I should say Mr. Stark?” The guy was young, barely more than a kid, and the only thing he was holding was a phone. He wasn't doing anything more dangerous than taking pictures. Tony relaxed, shifting into public-appearance mode, and the spark of magic died away in Loki's hand as he reached the same conclusion. 

“Hey, kid,” Tony said. “If you want a selfie, that's cool, let's do that, but I'm kind of off the clock here right now, so can we make this quick?”

“Oh, um. Sorry. There's not anything-- I mean, it's safe around here, right?” 

“Just here for dinner, I swear.” He grinned. “I highly recommend it. Try the rogan josh.” There, that was painless. A brief interruption--well, it happened enough when he'd just been Tony Stark, and being Iron Man hadn't exactly made him _less_ recognizable. He'd even plugged the restaurant, which ought to make him their new favorite customer. Good, because he planned to come back here a lot, unless Loki wanted to try somewhere else. 

Then Loki took a step forward, out of the shadow that had been partly concealing them, and laid a hand on his arm. “Anthony,” he began, and Tony blinked. 

“Since when do you call me anything but 'Stark'? And it's Tony, anyway,” he said, temporarily forgetting to care that they had an audience. 

“Since just before the waiter brought the bill,” Loki said, not taking his hand away. 

Since--oh. Yeah. Right, they definitely should be on a first-name basis, and he'd complain again about “Anthony” if the way Loki said it didn't do... things to him. But he'd forgotten about the kid with the phone, who'd gone kind of wide-eyed and nervous-looking. 

“That's _Loki_ ,” the kid said. “Shit. Did you just capture him?” 

That would have been funny if Tony had said it. Hell, Tony probably _would_ have said it at some point tonight, probably a point where Loki was pinned underneath him. But he was surprised at how totally not funny it was now, even before he realized that Loki had let his hand fall to his side. 

“You ought to keep up with the news more,” Tony said. “Mr. Laufeyson has reformed, has convinced me--not to mention Captain America, the rest of the Avengers, and SHIELD--that he can be trusted--” at least with anything big, though Tony would be disappointed if Loki ever stopped being a serious pain in the ass most of the time-- “and is a member of the team. I didn't capture him. I asked him out.” Okay, he was starting to sound pissed. Very, very pissed. Not good PR, but damn it, this was not the conversation he wanted to have tonight. 

He took a deep breath. “And now, if you don't mind, we'd like to get on with our evening. Loki?”

He'd been grateful that Loki hadn't said anything through Tony's rant--”don't make things worse” really didn't seem like advice Loki would be any better at following than Tony was--and he was even more glad about that now when he saw the smile Loki was giving him. That was definitely trouble. That was-- 

“Excellent idea, Anthony,” Loki said, and then Loki's arms were around him, pulling him close so that Loki could kiss him: slowly, deliberately, and, if Tony was any judge, photogenically. 

And then they teleported.

****

“Okay,” Tony said, as soon as his living room took shape around him, “I'm going to need you not to fucking do that without warning unless somebody's life depends on it. Also, JARVIS, somebody's going to need to collect the car, since we somehow forgot to bring it with us.” He scowled at Loki again, mostly because he didn't enjoy the feeling of being teleported, but also because he really fucking hated being whisked away somewhere without Loki even saying something.

Loki shrugged slightly, speaking over JARVIS's reply. “I felt that a memorable exit was appropriate.” 

“Pretty sure we were memorable enough as it was. That reminds me, JARVIS, there are some pictures, maybe video, of the two of us that I'm guessing are going to be hitting the internet in the next sixty seconds or so. I want them, plus any commentary you find, downloaded to my tablet. Oh, and my door _does not open_ to anyone but me and Loki until further notice.” He grinned at Loki. “Tomorrow is going to be _fun_.” 

“Fun?” Loki repeated. “You're looking forward to it?” 

“Hell, yes. First of all, it's not like we've done anything wrong--I didn't even yell at the guy. Secondly, you and I can take a lot of the heat off some people who really don't want to deal with a media spotlight on their love lives right now. And finally--” Tony could feel his grin, knew it probably looked pretty damn manic but didn't care--”I'm not afraid to make a scene, and I _know_ you're not, Bambi.” He also knew Loki would get that reference. They'd done classic old-school Disney a few weeks ago for Movie Night, and Tony had made sure that one was in there. He couldn't wait until December--”Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” was going to be top of the viewing list. 

Loki considered that for a minute, then gave Tony a grin that definitely spelled trouble for somebody. “When you put it that way, as much as it pains me to say so, you're correct. That is going to be enjoyable.” 

“But not until tomorrow,” Tony said firmly. “Tonight we're going to have absolutely no idea that we were on camera, because you need to finish what you started at the restaurant.”

“And what about yourself?”

Tony grinned. “I might be persuaded to do that, if you ask me nicely enough.” He looked up at Loki, very deliberately licking his lips. “Or if you order me nastily enough, for that matter.” 

Loki only smirked, but Tony could hear the roughness in his voice that let Tony know he wasn't the only one eager for this. “Kneel before me, mortal.” 

Since that had been pretty much exactly what he had been hoping to hear, for once, Tony Stark did exactly what he was told.

****

This getting up early was starting to be an irritating habit. He'd be grumpy about it, except that after JARVIS had woken him up to tell him that Pepper had scheduled a press conference at eleven, and that the two of them would be having a talk beforehand, because _she should be warned about these things_ , Loki had woken up as well and decided it was time for round three. Or maybe four; it depended on how you accounted for the fact that gods apparently didn't know the meaning of the words “refractory period.”

So while Tony was feeling pleasantly sore this morning, he was in a much better mood than he ordinarily was before coffee, even when he got to the kitchen and found everyone but Loki staring at him. 

Tony decided the best defense--not that he had done anything to be defensive about--was a good offense, and started talking before anyone else could get a word in. “Yes, I have seen the video, and while I don't blame you for wanting to keep a copy for your own private uses, _Barton_ , JARVIS will be erasing them. Get your own god.” He grinned at Bruce. “Oh, right, some of you did. Why is nobody giving me coffee, by the way?” 

Steve rolled his eyes, but since he was closest to the coffee maker, he poured a cup and set it down on the table next to Tony. Tony took a drink--good, someone competent had made it--and continued. “And here is why you-- or at least, the four of _you_ \--” his wave took in Steve, Bucky, Bruce, and Thor-- “are about to love me. I have a press conference in a few hours. Or rather, Loki and I have a press conference in a few hours.” Pepper hadn't mentioned Loki, but she had to know that Tony was bringing him along. 

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” Bruce asked. “Loki is, well--”

“The God of Mischief, Lies, and That Thing He Can Do With His Tongue?” Tony supplied helpfully. He didn't have any personal experience of having siblings, but Thor's expression was _exactly_ what he'd have imagined someone would make upon hearing that about their brother. Excellent. An entire new vista of driving people crazy had just opened up to him. 

“Unpredictable,” Bruce finished.

“Same thing.” Tony grinned. “And that's exactly why we'll both be there. I'm news on my own. With Loki, we're going to be drawing a lot of attention for a good long while. And if the piranhas are interested in what we're doing--how many public indecency laws we're breaking, whether he's corrupting me into villainy, what kind of brain-dead 'couple name' they can use for us--they're going to be paying a lot less attention to, for example, a touching love story of two men separated by death, brainwashing, and seven decades. Or a prince who risks his king's displeasure a second time for a mortal lover. Both of which, ordinarily, make damn good copy, but which I'm thinking you'd prefer they didn't notice, at least for a while.” 

Natasha looked thoughtful. “He's right, you know.” 

“Clint, if I wasn't absolutely sure I already have the best end of the bargain, I'd consider stealing her from you for that. I doubt Loki's going to say that very often.” 

There was a chuckle from the doorway. “He is not,” Loki said, taking Tony's coffee mug from him and carrying it to the table. “But in this case, you already know that I agree with you.” 

“So do I,” Bucky said. “We already agreed that the less attention I get, the better.” Steve put his hand on Bucky's, and Tony was almost proud to see that he did it without looking nervously around the room first. Maybe you could take the 1940s out of the man, eventually. 

“Great. So we're agreed--which is convenient, since we were going to do it no matter what you thought. Harry Potter and I are going to dazzle the press, distract the public, and generally be obvious and somewhat annoying. All for the good of the team, of course.”

Because, after all, Tony had decided to be responsible and sensible where Loki was concerned, and this _was_ the sensible thing to do.

**Author's Note:**

> So, my current work assignment is editing a mathematics textbook, and in the probability chapter there is a problem that says something like, "The probability that Tony will like his blind date is 0.2. What is the probability that Tony will *not* like his blind date?" (The probability may have been different, but it really was about some guy named Tony and his blind dates.) 
> 
> And, well, I couldn't stop snickering about it, and coming up with supplemental problems like, "What is the probability that whoever is setting Tony up on blind dates needs to just fucking stop?" and "What is the probability that the blind dates he likes are all named Loki?" and my wife kept enabling me. And then this fic happened. 
> 
> So, yeah--for all those kids who wonder where they're going to use math in their real life, the answer is fic.


End file.
